


Open Doors

by Saeva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Dark Harry, Dark Harry Potter, Dom!Hermione Granger, Dom!Tom Riddle, Dom/sub, F/M, I'm probably forgetting to tag something important, Kink, Light Sadism, M/M, Minor Violence, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Penetration, Possessive Tom Riddle, Secret Santa, Shameless Smut, Sub!Harry Potter, Subspace, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 19:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17147882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saeva/pseuds/Saeva
Summary: This work has no plot and no context. Just a prompt (paraphrased below). Hope you like it, Lady Cray!'Tom and Harry are secretly a couple because the golden boys of Slytherin and Gryffindor, respectively, don't want anyone in their business.  Head Girl Hermione has a lot of stress and a distinct lack of interactive relief until smug Tom Riddle offers to help her out with her problem. Unbeknownst to her Tom knows his boyfriend, and sometimes sexual submissive, plans to ask her for help with an assignment during her free period before lunch. Well known to Harry, Tom can be kind of a dick. So when he walks in mid-coitus he decides against fleeing. After all, who says you can't beat 'em by joining them?'I made Harry a little less uncertain than the original prompt because I was also trying to go for the dark!Tom, dark-ish!Harry, grey!Hermione request. Please read the tags in case, like, the fic includes a kink trigger you might have. Please. Also, I beta-ed it myself, which is why it's two days late. I kept 'fixing' things.





	Open Doors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Cray](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Cray/gifts).



He doesn’t knock. 

He _never_ knocks on the Head Girl’s private suite because it’s Hermione and if the door isn’t locked then there’s no reason not to go in. Not that he hasn’t thought about it, walking in on Hermione half-naked, stripping her of the rest, fucking her. Not that he hadn’t told Tom that. 

The door is definitely Tom’s fault. Tom, who knows Harry planned to ask Hermione’s read-through on a Transfiguration essay before lunch today. Tom, who’s buried balls deep in his best friend but with his eyes already locked on Harry’s, challenging. Pushing. 

Pushing is what Tom does best, after all. He pushes you to be your best, then better. He has the same standards for himself, if not stricter, and he expects everyone else to measure up. Intellectually. Emotionally -- that’s when the cracks show. That’s where he’s fucking Hermione Granger on a transfigured bed when he knows Harry’s going to walk in. 

Tom Riddle’s mindfield of emotional triggers should come with a warning sign and a disarming device. What Harry has is an open door and the sight of Hermione’s bare breasts bouncing as Tom changes the angle to get that much deeper. 

His dark blue eyes never leave Harry’s Killing Curse green. Hermione’s still too much in the throes of moaning with every thrust, her eyes scrunched closed, to notice they’re not alone. 

He should back out. Leave. Talk it out with them, both of them, separately, later. But, honestly, Harry’s in Gryffindor because he was smart enough to say Not Slytherin. He’s with Tom because he enjoys being pushed and pushing back. And he’s pretty sure he can convince Hermione, on the edge of orgasm, that this is a perfectly good idea. 

So he swings the door shut behind him loud enough Hermione jolts, her eyes widening in horror, her body trying to curl into itself even as Tom grabs her arms to pin her bare and fucks three times, hard and deep enough she screams that pre-orgasm scream. Then, Tom, like Harry predicted, stills, holding her down with his arms and now his legs and taking that from her. 

It’s not fun for Tom if he doesn’t _take_. 

“H-Harry, I can explain.” 

“Explain you fucking my boyfriend? I think that’s more his explanation that yours, ‘Mione.” 

Her brown eyes widen even more, the strike of realisation hitting her even as Tom makes sure she can’t move. For his part he throws a charming smile Harry’s direction, with only a little bit too much teeth, and drawls, “I thought you’d like the present. It is our one year anniversary, is it not?” 

Harry bites back a laugh that might sound more like a chuckle at Hermione’s expense because of course, of course, this is what Tom thinks a good anniversary present.

“Anniversary?” Hermione bites her lip and, fuck, it only makes Harry want to bite it harder. “I didn’t know, I swear --” 

“We were good at hiding it,” he agrees before the guilt can spill all over her. “Stress relief?” Because her now ex-boyfriend fucked off to ‘find himself’ and finish his NEWTs with tutors a month ago. 

She nods, swallowing so hard he can see the pulse in her throat. “I’m --”

“Going to see the logic that two dicks are better than one. He knows how to use his,” Tom pushes in, letting go with his hands to draw her jumper -- and shirt, Harry thinks -- further over her head and use those to restrain her arms instead.

“We always agreed we could fuck other people.” It’s not that it doesn’t -- didn’t -- doesn’t hurt that Tom didn’t tell him first. But this… this comes with dating Tom Riddle. It’s a sweet gesture, for him, and, maybe more importantly, a more genuine one than some boughten gift would be. “And thanks for the vote of confidence.” 

He steps closer, then closer still until he’s at the side of the bed. He could reach out and touch them, either of them. He makes himself meet Hermione’s eyes because his morals, being raised by the immoralist fucks that are the Dursleys, may be a little skewed but he draws some lines. This line. This raping a friend line. 

“Now’s the time to say if you’re not okay with this. Tom will leave. I’ll leave. _I_ need your consent.” Tom probably considered and discarded the whole concept by now. He’s not much bothered by morals so long as it’s not outright force. Manipulation’s fair game. 

“For a threesome.” 

Tom thrusts in and Harry touches them for the first time, putting his hand on Tom’s chest and pushing the boy hard. “No distracting her with your cock.”

The look he gets in return clearly communicates ‘it’d be easier’ but he shakes his head solidly. 

“Are you okay with this Harry?” Hermione asks, all sincere concern practically dripping from her tone. Of course she’d ask that.

“This is a fantasy of mine.” He bends his own rule by drawing a single finger from one breast, one nipple, to the next. They’re pert and erect and he wants to suck them more than he’s wanted almost anything at Hogwarts. 

Her voice goes small. “Oh.” She squirms. “Um, he wasn’t -- You weren’t,” her attention turns to Tom, “holding me down before.”

“I was waiting for the main event.” He nods towards Harry. “Do you like seeing it as much as you like receiving it?” 

His cock answers with a resounding ‘yes!’ but he takes a deep breath and tries to focus. Consent. Hermione’s. “I need your yes.” 

“I don’t enjoy too much pain.” Oh, Merlin, fuck, he’s thisclose to pinning her arms himself and watching Tom use her. “Or really being held down.” She drawls a deep breath. “ But, otherwise, that’s a yes.” 

He’s on the bed yanking her jumper all the way off before he finishes breathing out, tossing it aside for possible future use, and then pressing his lips against hers from above her. The angle’s odd but a turn of his body makes them fit, her mouth opening to him as he gives soft little licks against her tongue. She moans hard enough to make his teeth vibrate as Tom does something without moving them and the moans only get louder and louder and louder until they cut off with an anguished wail. 

“Are you edging her?” And that’s a term he learned from Tom, his brilliant, beautiful, absolute fucking control freak of a boyfriend. Who hates Muggles but, y’know, turns out wizards do not have books about kink. They’ve looked. 

Tom only grins when Harry looks up. “I wonder if she’ll beg as prettily as you do.” 

Hermione pants between them, whimpering quietly, almost like she doesn’t want them to hear, and Harry strokes her sweat-dampening hair. “I have another idea.” 

His best friend strikes him as a lot of things but submissive in bed isn’t one of them. He could be wrong but he’s pretty sure she’d like being on top more. . 

Tom grabs his chin, merciless in his eye contact and his grip, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?” 

“Two doms are better than one?” He can’t smile in the tight grip so he lets his voice help. “You fucking love seeing me at your mercy.” 

“I do.” There’s no shame or hesitation in the statement of fact. 

“Harry?” Hermione’s hand tugs at Tom but the bigger boy has better leverage and more strength. 

“Shh-shh, it’s okay. Tom knows my limits.” With that the other boy releases him and Harry pulls back, then scoots next to Hermione, to lay parallel. “And I know that I’m not allowed to come without his permission.” 

Tom nearly growls low in his throat, his eyes fluttering. “My good boy. You want her to fuck you, don’t you?” He strokes a hand over Harry’s still clothed thigh. “While I let her come.” His other hand rubs between Hermione’s slick folds, tearing a groan out of her. 

“As she uses me to go off.”

Tom reaches over and, with a combination of strength, cooperation, and raw magic bares Harry below the belt first, showing how much he’s interested in the idea. Hermione, to his surprise, pulls away from Tom and his cock to sit up and help take off Harry’s shirt and tie. As she’s about to toss it to the side Tom grabs her hand. “No, keep the tie. Hands up.” 

Harry stretches them over his head, putting them together like experience taught him, and Tom instructs her on how to loop the striped red-and-gold cloth around Harry’s wrists before using magic to pull it up, drawing the slightly younger boy taut and secured to the bed by his hands. It bends his spine, this pull, and he breathes deep into it, letting the tie and Tom’s strong commands settle him. 

“Now, aren’t you being good?” Tom askes, lazily tracing his fingernails over Harry’s bare inner thighs. The marks from the last time they fucked, ages ago when they could both get away without drawing attention, faded a day or two ago. “Unlike you Harry here enjoys both being bound and hurt. He has a fantasy of you allowing him to worship your breasts, eat out your cunt, tell him what a good little slut he’s being all while you use your nails to mark him.”

Harry really can’t stop the whimper that pushes out of his throat. In the fantasy, the fucking fantasy he told Tom because they were trading ‘this could never happen fantasies’, she squeezes his balls to make him scream and stop him coming. Tom has been nothing if not thorough in training that little preference into Harry over the past year. 

Tom hmms quietly, his hand dragging heavily up Harry’s now bare chest and to his throat. On his throat. Lightly. “But wouldn’t that be good little whore? I mean, you’re _mine_. I’m simply lending you out to her for her pleasure.” 

Harry can barely breathe. Not because of the hand, which stays loose if possessive, but because the fantasy leans inches from him, her brilliant, analytical mind turning over every word and every reaction to it as she watches Harry’s face. He gasps in air, his chest heaving, and his cock bouncing with his strained breaths. _Ohfuckohfuckohfuck._

And then his best friend, ever the Ravenclaw in Gryffindor striping, cocks her head to the side and says, “That does sound interesting… His reactions… He -- You really enjoy this, don’t you?” 

“Fuck, yes! Will one of you please do something!” 

Tom backhands him, the sting of the impact snapping Harry’s head to the side -- facing away from them, where he shan’t see their reactions -- and the older boy, by six months, says calmly, “Manners. I’ve taught you better.” 

Shame fills Harry’s belly, ‘bad sub’ ringing his head in, and he turns his stinging face back to look up at Hermione, past her wonderful breasts leaning millimeters from his mouth and to her face. “Yes, Hermione. I like this.” 

“You… Something crossed your face after he did that. Something unhappy.” 

“I don’t like breaking rules here, Hermione..” He lowers his eyes from hers, from both of theirs, even as she huffs a breath with ‘here, of all places’ quietly. “I should had done better.” 

“Oh, Harry.” Sympathy pours out of her voice. 

“No.” Tom’s voice is hard. “He went out of line. You’re not to give him sympathy for that.” It softens. “But you’ve had enough of that now, haven’t you? You’ll do better.” 

“I’ll do better,” Harry agrees, his stomach twisting with the need to make it up to them. 

“Good boy.” That helps and he takes a deep, steadying breath, testing the tie around his wrists. It budges not at all.. “What would you like, Hermione? His cock?” A flick there makes Harry moan. “His mouth? I can’t really attest to his oral skills with a woman but he’s a quick learner. Or he was with me.” Tom’s smile angles so that only _Harry_ can see it, or most of it, the sharp bite of it at the corner and the threat in his eyes, before he turns back to Hermione pleasantly. “Or I could go back to shagging you while he watches.” 

Hermione strokes a finger softly up his still very stiff manhood and hums to herself, then climbs over, straddling his hips and upper legs before she lowers. Tom helps hold him, to ease her on without a false start, and she gives a few experimental hip rolls. “Oh, do do the spell for me, would you?” 

Tom murmurs a spell Harry doesn’t recognise and rolls his eyes. “So you shan’t get her pregnant.” Then he strokes one of Harry’s hard nipples. “What I did not put is the spell to keep back your orgasm. Let’s find out how far that’s gone along now, shall we?” 

Harry gulps and screws his eyes shut. He knows the consequences for failure here. He’ll enjoy them too, the punishment, the forgiveness, but Hermione might… She mightn’t understand. “Yes, sir.” 

“Eyes at me.” It’s the command to open his eyes and he does it, shaking a little with excitement and need. He wanked this morning, thinking of Tom buggering him, his own fingers up his arse, but it mightn’t have never happened far as his cock feels. 

Her wetness feels different than the lube the few times Tom’s ordered him on top and she spasms around him differently too as she starts a rhythm. It rubs her whole groin down on him and she moans at the most point of contact, which he can’t touch now. 

“Please let me touch,” he begs Tom because only the other boy’s going to let his hands be untied. 

“Touch this, you mean?” And then his long, strong fingers rub the top of her mound before she grinds down and she clenches round him. 

“Oh, oh.” She moans as Tom keeps rubbing there, her up and down round Harry’s cock tighter and faster now. Much and his cock twitches with each clench, his balls tighten every time she bottoms down, and while she fucks him she watches his face. Not Tom’s fingers or her body or his body but his face, the way he exhales sharply every time she tightens and trembles all over as she really starts to using him. 

If she remembers -- if she uses her nails, like Tom said -- Harry’s a goner. He knows it. So far she isn’t touching except to brace against his shoulders, only watching the painful need for release build on his face as she goes for her own. Tom’s free hand threatens, tapping a nipple or stroking a hip, but doesn’t bite. And Harry keeps the orgasm back, even though this feels amazing, as he’s been taught. Like he’s been told. 

Then she moans long and hard, clenching so tight three, four times it hurts and almost pushes him over. 

But he’s good. As she pants above him, spasming as she pulls herself off him, he’s good. And when she says, “That was good, Harry. Now Tom’s going to shag me and if you stay good I’ll let you taste me after that. How does that sound?” he’s very good.

He thrusts against air and nods, keeps nodding until Tom chuckles. “You’ve always claimed she was a quick study. If you’d please get on your hands and knees over him…” 

“Wh -- Ohh.” She smiles sharply and straddles him again, her sex above his stomach now and her breasts, hanging down so temptingly, above his mouth. Tom tips her forward, putting her beautiful chest within reach, and Harry strains up to suckle a nipple. 

When she moans, sharp and sudden, Tom finds the cause quick enough to twist Harry’s balls sharply. He yanks away. _Hurtshurtshurts._ “Did you have permission from either of us?” 

“N-No.” God, he loves how Tom doesn’t let him get away with anything set out in the rules, not even once, not even on special occasion. They’re consistent and so are the punishments. “Please may I?” 

“Yes, Harry,” Hermione says softly m but there’s a gleam in her eyes. “Don’t bite. Do you understand?” He nods. 

“And what’s the consequence if he bites, Ms. Granger?” 

Her brow furrows. “What you did before, with the orgasm, he called that edging?” 

“Yes, taking someone to the edge and pulling back. Don’t worry, I won’t be doing that to _you_ again.” Tom glances over at Harry.

“Then for every bite you pull back an additional time with him.” 

Harry whines. He can’t help it. That’s mean. His cock also jumps because he secretly loves mean. Tom laughs, sharply; perhaps not so secretly. “Please, Hermione.” 

“No, Harry. I made a rule and this time you will certainly follow it.” She sounds so prim, like when trying to push exam revision time tables on him, but she’s starkers and her breasts nudge his chin and he doesn’t need to see Tom’s face to know the Head Boy loves this rule. It’s exactly the type that he would make.

“Yes, Hermione.” 

She looks surprised and Tom must catch it -- Harry’s having trouble focusing beyond her breasts, finally there to lick and suck -- because he asks, “What?” 

“I thought he’d sound closer to resigned. He sounds… tranquil. That last, ‘Yes, Hermione’, I mean. You sound so calm.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Harry laughs because, Merlin, this is a fantasy come true. Literally. Even his fantasy couldn’t have made that bit up, where she got creative and dominant herself, even if it took a little prompting from his boyfriend. “I like being told what to do in bed. I like it all being consistent. Tom is always consistent. He never lies or breaks a promise in bed. It’s…” His mouth wobbles a bit before he admits. “I haven’t exactly got anyone else who does that for me, do I?” 

“Oh, Harry.” She sounds sad, which isn’t what he wants her to be, and Tom must touch her because she gasps after, distracted by him. 

“You’re nice and opened up for me,” Tom says calmly, like that isn’t completely filthy, and Hermione goes pink above Harry. “Go down on your elbows, please.” She does, pushing her breasts into Harry’s face to lick and suck and make her groan. “There. Now I’m going to --” He straddles Harry’s thighs and Hermione arches as he sinks in with one, long thrust. “Soft or hard?”

“Hard.” It’s an order. Or a demand. Either way Tom fingers curl into aborted fists, too close to her skin to do that, but he decides to follow it, for now, and Harry can hear the smack of flesh meet every time he bottoms out, like an open hand spanking. Hermione’s eyes are dilated near to black. Harry does his best to keep his mouth on her swinging breasts until she presses forward far enough his mouth and most his nose is covered.. 

He takes air as he can get it, when Tom yanks her hips back to meet his, and leans forward. He can’t possibly see Harry’s face from there but he seems to be doing something to Hermione’s back because she keeps jolting a little. Bites or sucks. Tom loves to leave marks. And Harry gasps against her hot skin the rest of the time, sucking where he can, trying not to. But his teeth catch on a nipple on accident and she winces. He’s more careful after that, licking more than sucking, until as she screams an orgasm into the sheet next to Harry’s head while he gives little licks to the skin he can reach. 

“Harry, come out.” He eases himself out from under her, moving her as little as possible, and finds Tom making a ‘come here’ gesture. “Did you enjoy that?” Harry nods, flushing. “Okay. Right now I want her clean, inside and out.” He points to the swollen redness of Hermione’s aching sex. 

Harry can’t help but ask, “Is it okay so soon?” to her. He wants to be _good_.

“Oh, yes, the sooner the better. It’s easier for me to come again right after I’ve gone off.” She seems content to curl her arms across the bed and lay her forehead on it, keeping position. “I believe you had an order, Harry”

He’s never done this before. But then, he’d not sucked a cock until Tom ordered his mouth open and used it. So he starts inside, immediately tasting the almost sweet stickiness of Hermione mixed with the more bitter come he’s familiar with from Tom. He licks at her hole, a little fascinated by the possibility of the closed muscled ring above it, knowing his fantasies he’s had of being filled with cock in mouth and arse at once before. When she tilts her hips a wave of liquid pours onto his tongue so all he can focus on is swallowing down the come given to him.

He takes it all obediently and then circles his tongue deeper inside of her before she impatiently orders, “Further up, Harry.” 

Tom puts him on his back and helps Hermione lower onto his face without completely blocking his air. It’s the first good look he gets at her sex, which is trimmed to short hair that won’t show around knickers, he thinks, and so swollen that getting access to her clit, glistening and peeking from its hood, takes only a matter of position. There he licks and sucks and flicks his tongue, listening to each cue, each change of pitch, like he has with Tom to learn to please before. He’d like a repeat of today and that means Hermione needs to walk away happy too. 

“Push his face in.” 

The order surprises him because it comes from Hermione, not Tom, but his boyfriend has a painful grip on the back of his head before he can fully process it and pushes his face up. He sucks hard, playing her little nub like he would the head of a cock, and she groans deeply while it gets ever harder to breathe. Tom pulls him back in another moment and orders, “Inhale.” 

Then he’s back to sucking, liquid dripping over his chin and neck in lines and gushes, until he’s struggling against Tom’s push. He needs to breathe again. He struggles harder, rubbing against Hermione’s wet folds and her whole body contracts on his breathless mouth. Tom yanks his head down immediately to lick up the dripping hole and Hermione orders him to do it in long stripes of his tongue, from bottom to top, until finally she climbs off of him. 

Tom, the smug bastard, smirks down at him. “You look like you when I come all over you face.” 

“Oh.” Hermione inhales, shaking a little as she lays down on her back on the bed. “That was brilliant, Harry. You were very good.” She looks him in the face and rephrases, “You were a good boy for me.”

Any resentment he might have felt from Tom’s surprise breathing contest fades away in contentment that he pleased her. She’ll probably want to do this again. And he’ll get better. 

She giggles a bit, looking completely shagged. “You are a mess, though.” 

He can feel it but he’s in the sort of mind place where he doesn’t care. Tom likes to come all over him when he’s pliant and buzzing like this. Tom, who runs a finger over Harry’s neck and then brings it to his mouth like he would when feeding Harry his own come.. 

Before he sucks, though, he admits, “I bit her once.” He knows Tom will be pleased he told himself instead of waiting for her to do it. Then he sucks the finger and a few more fingers covered with come before Tom pulls away. 

“You bit her once and her consequence will be acted on,” Tom says simply, telling him what will happen. “You were good to tell me. That was the right thing to do.” He strokes Harry’s hair. “But there is also going to be a consequence from me.” 

“Is that really fair? He’s already going to be punished.” 

“We have standing rules, Granger. Hermione. I don’t break my word to Harry. Come here now.” Even though the tie hasn’t been stuck to the bed for awhile the gold-and-red stripes are still tied snug round his wrists, making it a bit slow for him to get up into position on his knees. 

To his surprise, Tom moves in front of him, carefully bending Harry over his legs across the bed, arse up but with a lot of contact with his boyfriend’s bare lap. No, dominant right now. This isn’t going to be too painful if it’s doing over the lap. 

Without prompting, Harry says, “I disobeyed Hermione’s rule and bit her once.” 

“Yes, you did.” A hand rubs over his spine, more comforting and softer than Tom usually is a straight before punishment. It might be for Hermione’s benefit as a glance over shows she still watches. 

Then, without warning, a hard slap comes down on his right cheek and he whimpers. When a second hit goes the same place he’s better prepared and stays quiet. Tom doesn’t demand silence during punishments but it’s less embarrassing to Harry. The worst ones are where he can’t hold the sounds in. But three and four aren’t that bad, matching red prints on his left cheek, before Tom moves five and six to his upper thighs. Then he stops and rubs Harry’s back again. 

“Good boy. You did good.” 

He breathes deep and slow and his skin thrums, sensitive all over but eager to be touched. “Tom.”

“You’re forgiven. There’s still some punishment to get through but you’re already forgiven. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Tom.” But… only his boyfriend has said so and that isn’t his only dominant here. His stomach suddenly twists. “Hermione?” 

“Of course you’re forgiven, Harry. Don’t be silly.” Her hand touches, then strokes, his hair. 

It’s not silly though. Not when he’s been punished but not forgiven by so many before. He doesn’t say that, doesn’t want to make her sad again, and he presses into Tom’s shoulder when the other boy straightens him. “You’re mine,” Tom whispers in his ear. “You’re good and you’re mine.” 

The other boy, not prone to sentimentality, always says that after every punishment and Harry no longer chokes up only hearing it. 

Straightened, kneeling on the bed with his wrists tied together in front of him, Harry doesn’t really want to be untied so when Tom reaches for the tie he pulls his hands away. Tom’s sharp glance suggests if Hermione weren’t watching so closely that would get a slap and Harry holds out his hands compliantly. The tie comes off and Tom checks his wrists for blood flow and marks. 

Then he looks to Hermione, his expression once again challenging, and states, “This is when I would usually edge him to the point of begging before buggering him. He’s rarely allowed to come without something inside his arse.”

“Well, I already knew you were a controlling bastard,” Hermione says back quickly. “Shan’t say I’m surprised it extends to the bedroom.” 

“It seems like you’ve been enjoying the control as well, Ms. Granger.” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Well, Harry’s such… He’s been so good overall and it’s clear he enjoys it. And needs it.” Now she’s stroking his hair again and he lets his eyes close, not concerned with their talk. They’ll take care of him. “He likes being tied?” 

Tom hums. “Quite a bit. Why?”

“Well, I thought we might tie him again, with better leverage, you see.” 

He chuckles low. “Be my guest.” 

When Harry opens his eyes again stakes have grown out of the with the bed, at each corner and midpoint, with thick, soft ties stretching from each, He pants and nuzzles her neck, remembering to say, ‘thank you’.. Tom takes to it with enthusiasm, spreading Harry out on his back and binding him to the top of the bed and the bottom corners. None of the ties give any slack, leaving him helpless to their next decisions and he pitches further into the mental place he sometimes goes for Tom. Everything feels good and present and absolute. 

Tom’s rule is absolute. Hermione’s feels that way too, now, in this place of mind with her on one side of him and Tom on the other.

Harry imagines things that could be done to him, things he won’t want, things he shan’t be able to stop, and he accepts it. He’s given control over to Tom, who wants -- no, needs -- this taking of control over him. It’s Hermione who surprises him, not because she’s bossy in bed (anyone could have guessed that) but because she hasn’t flinched from Tom’s violence. 

Then again, Harry did begin a campaign of corrupting her sense of authority nearly from that moment with the troll. He’s not innocent in this, in the Hermione who became a girl willing to cross lines because she stayed his best friend. He’s not innocent at all. An innocent wouldn’t be able to be with Tom Riddle. 

Giving control to Tom is dangerous because _Tom is dangerous_ and the first time, or even the sixth, he struggled with it. With wanting it, with wanting it from Riddle of all people, that annoyingly brilliant boy who recognised that he, Harry, was a boy made of masks upon masks. 

But here, now, the masks strip bare. He’s only himself here. And this is only Tom. Not the charming, outwardly harmless Head Boy Riddle but the real Tom. Who could hurt him. Break his body. Or his mind. Or his life. But who, for all his violence, treats Harry -- the real Harry -- like he’s worth something. 

A pinch brings him back to attention. “You’re quite silent, Harry,” Tom observes, a question buried in a statement. 

“I’m good.” He needs to keep going and not only because his cock still begs attention. “I don’t need to talk. I trust you.” 

He might be the only person in the world who truly trusts enough to be this vulnerable to Tom Riddle. 

“I’m going to keep going until I’m satisfied with your reaction.” It isn’t an uncommon statement and Harry only closes his eyes again, unworried.

Hermione asks, “What reaction do you want from him?” 

Tom chuckles. “He’ll figure it out sooner or later. He always does.” 

Despite the light punishment and extra comfort Tom’s not in a soft mood today, Harry can tell. He could see the line of tension still curling across Tom’s shoulders when his eyes were opened and can feel it still in the air between them as he’s tied here waiting.

Sometimes Tom is in a soft mood, gentle and slow, every bit of attention on Harry’s reactions the way Hermione’s doing now, but Tom always likes to tie him no matter the mood. He almost always does, even when Harry doesn’t feel the need to be brought back to his own skin, reminded that he’s _here_ and he’s Tom’s. 

This tie is tight, stretching his upper body so he clings to the ropes above his wrists and holds on. His legs spread, out of his control, open and available to either of them. 

Hermione, curious -- he can see it when he finally opens his eyes -- gives his cock a few good yanks and he groans. Tom, meanwhile, summons lube (and why does Hermione have lube?) before sanitising it. Then his fingers gleam before pushing, rough and too broad, into Harry’s hole. He’s used to this roughness and relaxes around the push in, feeling the thrust of the fingers as an intrusion first. 

When Tom, fingers pressing deeper inside of Harry, asks, “Who do you belong to?” the feeling flips to an acceptance. 

“You.” Harry’s eyes flutter because those long fingers go deep enough to feel good now. 

“When’s the last time you wanked?” Hermione asks, rubbing a fingertip over his slit too lightly. Is she teasing on purpose?

It takes him a minute to recognise the question, past the touch, and he mumbles, “This morning. I did myself with my fingers and thought about Tom fucking me open.” His face warms a little but, really, he’s beyond caring. “Please. Tom.” 

Tom slaps him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow but Harry only moans when the fingers press into him again. 

But then they’re gone and he’s whimpering at the loss. It wasn’t enough, even for Tom in a mood, to fuck him, some part of him thinks. Most of him wonders what he did to lose the touch. But he’s barely had time to reckon that when the fingers return, more insistent and purposeful than before. They’re curling, testing, and when they hit his prostate he cries out while the pleasure spikes up his body. The higher he moans, the longer Tom backs off. When he tries (tries because like this he has such trouble keeping quiet) to stay silent Tom drags messy fingers from him entirely and flicks his cock head in one spot until he gets a sharp pitched whine. 

Hermione’s hands stay on his chest. Not his nipples or anywhere sexual. She’s laying on her side, half-curled around him, and with her hands sat there on his chest casually while she watches. “He’s very responsive.” 

Harry groans and Tom hums a little to himself. “Yes, he is. Most entirely with a little applied pressure.” Three fingers, wide and sore at first, push straight up to his prostate and stay there, rubbing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until Harry yanks at his bonds because he wants to touch his cock. 

“No, don’t.” He stops struggling and Tom laughs, a happy sound. “I wasn’t speaking to you, Harry. I was speaking to her. If you touch his cock now he’ll orgasm and then he’ll struggle a great deal more with what I have planned.” 

Harry gasps, shuddering all the way down, because he knows what that means. He’s gone off before, when Tom didn’t plan for him to, and Tom didn’t change anything. He’d milked Harry’s over sensitive dick instead and laughed when Harry fought the ties. 

“Now, don’t worry about it, Harry. You’re pleasing me. You’re doing precisely what I wish of you.” Tom’s clean hand curls over his cheek until a thumb pops into his mouth and Harry sucks at it. “Est-ce que tu parles français? Ce sera plus facile pour lui s’il n’essaie pas de suivre nos paroles.” 

“Oui.” Yes, in French. 

And then she asks a question, he thinks, but it doesn’t matter, does it? He’s supposed to be sucking and making noises and trying to grind down on the fingers back up his arse. The constant, careful rubbing on his prostate make his whole body shiver inside to out and he blinks, saw Tom’s lovely face before teeth nip at his lips. He opens up to it the way his body is open, hears the gentle rise and fall of Hermione’s voice and Tom’s reply. 

Now her fingers press into his mouth and he sucks happily, full and throb, throb, throbbing with pleasure. His eyes shut again. Tom speaks, English, and the hardest open hand slap yet pulls him back from the hum that is his body. He ignored Tom’s words. Must’ve. He tries hard at focus. 

“Eyes at me.”

His eyes go up to Tom, now above him, and the fingers still pushing in-out, in-out, slow and unchangeable. If he begs already, Tom will slap him again. If he doesn’t beg, it will keep on and on. Tom’s eyes are more black than blue by now, only a ring of colour,and he leans over to state, clearly, “If you orgasm before I tell you to I will make you regret it dearly,” right as two fingers press hard against his prostate. 

Harry’s cock _jerks_ and he gasps, shuddering, bucking into his bonds as he feels the weighty press of Tom stretched out above him. 

The threat’s real. If he comes without permission Tom will take ages making him regret making his own choice. That only pushes Harry further down now, into that place where he’s…

He doesn’t really know. He knows it’s hard to tell Tom ‘no’ or ‘stop’ there but he can if he really needs to. It’s hard to talk at all but Tom listens when he gets like this, shuddering over and over against the other boy’s warm skin. More French, an order in tone. Then a fingernail tracing over his foreskin, pulled all the way back to show his red, needy head. He groans, barely breathing as the fingers in his arse keep moving slowly. 

“Can’t,” he thinks he gets out. The fingernail pulls back for only a second before it scrapes over his slit. “Can’t.” 

“You can. Remember the time I tied right here…” A different finger, Tom’s finger this time, draws a line where the swollen head peeks out in Harry’s arousal. “Then I hooked it to the ceiling, forcing you to keep your body arched until your muscles gave out?” 

_Fuck_. Harry remembers how his thighs burnt because every time he tried to rest them the pain in his cock made him sob. A punishment for an ‘A’ in Charms. 

“You’ve done that?” Hermione sounds torn between horror and fascination. 

Tom goes to French again, sounding smug. Probably on how Harry hasn’t gotten less than an E on anything since then. “This is pulling him out. Harry, eyes to me.” He focuses on his boyfriend. “You can do this. You belong here, like this, under my control. I will take care of everything. What is your job?”

He opens his mouth to say, ‘Obey’, but that isn’t right. “Not come until you say I can.” 

“Very good. And how long can you do that?” 

His brain tumbles. “Until you say so.” 

“And if he doesn’t say so?” Hermione bursts in. 

“Then I won’t come until he does.” Tom smiles at this so Harry knows he’s being very good right now, eyes on Tom’s and saying good things. 

“What if he says you may not orgasm at all?” Her voice turns curious again. “Fucks you but says you’re not allowed to gain pleasure too?” 

Harry turns that over in his mind. “I _would_ get pleasure. Tom would go off in me and that feels so good, being buggered, and he’d be pleased and that’s… I’m a good boy.”

“Yes, you are.” Tom strokes his cheek again, gently, and Harry shivers.

“How long have you withheld orgasm from him before?” 

That isn’t for him and he feels Tom’s shrug in the way his fingers shift inside Harry. “A week? Over Winter Hols.” Over Tom’s birthday, a stressful time of year for him. Then French, a long string of it before his attention returns fully to Harry. 

“What is your job?”

“Don’t come until you tell me to.”

“Good, Harry. That’s right.” 

The fingers move a little faster. Not fast enough, like being buggered. Slow and steady, one pace, and a slap to the bum when he tries to speed them up with his hips. 

He reddens but Tom doesn’t scold him except to ask, “Do I need to tie you down at the hips too?” 

He wants to be. Then he couldn’t move at all. So he nods. Tom chuckles and magic buzzes in the air before there’s ties around his hips from each side of the bed. Oh, Merlin. Fuck. This is -- He struggles as hard as he can, fights it, and he can barely move at all. 

Tom’s hand clamps down on his balls immediately and he whimpers. Oh, he was about to -- It feels so good, being kept from doing anything, making any choices, worrying, though, and he’s already so worked up… 

“Please, Tom?” He bites his lower lip and pouts. 

“If you want to come now you’ll use a toy I choose.” 

Trap. Trap. Even Harry’s foggy brain knows that and he shakes his head slowly, going boneless in his ties. Tom finger-fucks him and traces a collar over his neck before that hand moves lower, dragging nails down as he goes. Marks underneath his clothing. 

He snaps something to Hermione, who starts quickly stroking Harry’s cock, in long, hard strides of up-and-down that he puts all in shattered thought of no orgasm. NO. Be good. Don’t --

And it stops. He whines low and long, panting for a long time. 

“Again,” Tom says. 

Hermione’s hand comes back and Harry struggles, bruising himself on the soft ties, as his cock tightens out of his control. Tighter, tighter, tighter, closer to not doing as told, and then -- 

Gone. He sobs a little. Oh, he wants to come so badly but he wants to please Tom more. 

“Slower build up this time.” And she moves as hard and as far but much slower, more in time with his prostate being played with, and he shakes his head. 

“Tom!” 

It stops and he gasps for air, shaking on the bed, hands in his hair softly. He pushes into those. 

“Would you like to be fucked now?” He nods. “Why?” 

... He frowns. “You’re hard, Tom.” He can feel it on his spread out thigh. 

His boyfriend chuckles and plays with his hair further. “I’m aware.” 

A broader, stronger hand circles his cock this time, all directness and every touch he knows will push Harry over as Harry struggles now not to, panting, “Tom? Tom? Tom?” with every breath.

This time when the hand lets go suddenly he starts trembling, his body too close to the edge to back all the way down even as they wait. Tom moves between this legs, the press of his slick cockhead the next sensation Harry feels. 

“Please. Please. Please.”  
‘  
French. English, “Wait until I’m inside you.” 

“Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou.” He sniffles but he only has to hold on a bit more.

“I’ve never fucked you this tied down before.” It sounds… curious but Harry doesn’t worry about it. All he has to do is not come until Tom is all the way inside. He can do that. 

The hardness inside him feels perfect as it sinks in all the way up to the balls and then Tom starts fucking, hard and fast like he prefers, a brutal shove in and an unpreparable drag out, and Harry builds to the edge as his prostate gets hit more than not. But he can’t -- Everything’s too fuzzy. He whimpers, burying his face -- his head he can move -- in Tom’s moving chest, and then a hand wraps around his cock and he can’t breathe. 

“Ohgodohgod, TomTomTomTom, ngngh.” He’s yelping with every fuck in, breathing again as his body fills with a rush like a blow to the head. Everything aches and everything feels amazing and Tom’s fucking hurts but even that feels fucking brill. 

He collapses, letting Tom do all the work (he can’t, he’s tied up anyway, Tom is in control), and doesn’t move again besides slow blinks until the almost painful emptying of his hole. The whole time his whole body keeps thrumming to the rapid beat of his heart.

The ties drop, all at once, but Tom’s hand wraps around his wrists tightly, pulling him to sitting (and, oh, he’s a little lightheaded) without letting go. Without ever letting go. 

“I’m here. I’m here, Harry.” A kiss to his temple. “You can go now, Granger. I have it from here.” 

Hermione scowls. Maybe she only sounds scowly. “He’s my best friend. And you’re in my rooms.” 

“He needs to be held and a warmed blanket. Some liquids.” Rage peeks into his voice as Tom tells her, “I know how to take care of what’s mine.”  
.  
When she speaks again it sounds like she understands Tom is dangerous. “He’s yours but I want to help you take care of him. Will you show me what to do?” 

And that -- The tension fades and Harry rubs his face over Tom’s throat. “You’re here.” 

“I’m here and I’m going to take care of you.” More begrudging. “We’re going to take care of you. Juice to drink would be best, Granger.” 

Then there’s a pop and some juice being carefully pushed for him to sip and a fluffy blanket (that one’s Hermione, his brain registers and he blinks her direction for a bit) tucked around him. 

“Harry, are you alright?” 

He laughs. He laughs so hard his stomach cramps and nuzzles Tom’s neck again. “I’m still cold. Closer?” 

She caves easy. Much easier than Tom would and he can see the other boy’s eyes narrowing at the manipulation, an unspoken warning not to try that with him, Then Harry’s wrapped between the two of them eating food Tom had the fucking forethought to bring for post-scene. (The right smug bastard… the right, smug bastard,) 

“That was… good,” he tells them cautiously. “It was hard until you switched to French.” To her, “I’m nervous about tensions when I’m like that.” To Tom, “Thanks.” 

Tom doesn't bother to acknowledge it, only makes him eat another piece of peanut buttered cracker. "We can dissect this in detail later, Granger. Just... shut it and cuddle." 

Harry doesn't even try to stop himself from laughing again. "Cuddle!" 

"I can punish you." 

"I'd probably enjoy it." The growl Tom makes under his breath is completely worth later consequences.


End file.
